


like normal people do

by radiodurans



Category: Harry Styles (Musician)
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, Grinding, M/M, New York City, Sexy Nightclub Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiodurans/pseuds/radiodurans
Summary: Harry stares blankly into New York City’s pitch black sky. The aboveground train thunders in the distance. It raises goosebumps on Harry’s skin, the too-much of pizza-shop-neon and women in broken heels stumbling across the street and the love he feels for everything in the world.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Xander Ritz
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39
Collections: Accessory Fest 2020





	like normal people do

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started writing this tiny little story about six weeks before New York City shut down entirely. The place where Xander and Harry are dancing in this story is (was?) a real bar not too far from where I live and, if I had known what was going to happen, I probably would have gone more. Obviously, this is quite bittersweet for me to post. The fic takes place roughly around November 2019 so allow that to inform your interpretations however you will. 
> 
> Please do not send Mx. Harry Styles this fic. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental yadda yadda etc. I make no claims about Harry Styles' actual sexuality or gender within this story. Think of it as a roman a clef with the real names still tacked on.
> 
> Title from MIKA’s Talk About You.

So maybe Mercury is in retrograde. So maybe he’s in love. So maybe Xander is dancing behind him, hot breath puffing against his neck, hands interlocked and resting just above the pinned-up hole in Harry’s shirt. His arms are Equinox-strong; he could squeeze the air out of Harry’s lungs if he really wanted to. If Harry wasn’t drunk on three Scorpio Specials he’d be able to come up with some sort of joke about it – _ripped for someone who is thirty. . .thirty-seven –_ but all he can focus on is the smell of Xander’s sweat and cologne. Xander kisses the back of his neck. He’s sloppy too, though not as sloshed as Harry. The tolerance for alcohol he forged in his fraternity has stayed with him for almost twenty years. _God –_ a fraternity. He’s grinding in a Bushwick queer bar on a former lacrosse player who was _in a fraternity._

“How are you even real?” Harry asks, barely audible above the music. Somehow, Xander hears him, and laughs.

“Oh my God. How am I even real? How are you even real?”

He bites playfully at Harry’s ear and grinds into his ass. Xander is fully hard now – hopefully, a promise for later. 

“You’re like. . .” Harry exerts so much effort trying to get his thoughts in order that he loses the train for a minute. The blue light in the back room is neutralizing his brain cells for sure.

“Like what?” asks Xander. His thumb moves to the pins on Harry’s shirt and toys with them for a moment. Harry shivers and remembers what he was going to say. Then, he realizes that it is _extremely_ stupid.

“Never mind,” he says. Xander rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and lays a kiss under his ear.

“No, I wanna know. Your drunk observations about me are all winners,” he says. Harry clears his throat, feeling himself flush.

“Erm. Have you ever seen the kind of porn. . .where gay men seduce other gay men. . .who are pretending to be straight men?"

Xander laughs again. _God_ his laugh is delightful. If Harry could, he’d transform it into an essential oil and daub it behind his ears every day.

"Only the clips of bad acting on YouTube. I don't usually watch -"

"Gay porn. Right," says Harry. He takes a big breath in, out. The room sways. His body is too hot in Xander's arms but he can't bear to pull away. Xander nuzzles into his neck and dips his fingers into the hole in Harry's shirt. The only things keeping Xander’s entire hand from tucking into the waistband of his bell-bottoms are the two safety pins clinging on for dear life.

"What about that kind of gay porn reminds you of me?" says Xander. He toys at Harry’s happy trail with his long index finger. The bass drops, making the hair on Harry’s body stand on end. The relationship between Xander and straight-bait porn and Harry’s deeply unfortunate thirst for the straightest of men feels like a 1:1:1 and yet Xander, somehow, is here.

"You're like. . .if the actors were any good. I feel like I. . ." Harry searches for the word, distracted momentarily by the thump of another bass drop. "Converted you. Or something."

Xander gives his ear a playful bite and rolls his hips into Harry again. One of the safety pins, fed up with its treatment, unhooks and falls to the floor.

“Oh no,” whines Xander dramatically. “What a tragedy. Turned away from the straight lifestyle by Harry Styles.”

Around them, the song switches to a slow jam. Harry extricates himself from Xander’s arms with a wobbly smile, turns around, and flops back into Xander face first. He gives Xander a little love bite as Xander’s arms wrap around the small of his back. 

“You’re the most eligible bachelor in Wayne, Pennsylvania. I’m limiting the gene pool.”

They sway in silence for a moment, slow and only a little filthy. Still, he can feel Xander’s cock as hard as ever against his leg. If they don’t leave soon, both of them are going to cum right in their expensive pants. Xander, being the more sober, older, and wiser of the two, is, of course, the one to actually take initiative on preventing this incredibly sexy thought from becoming a reality. He pulls away from Harry and grabs his hand. 

“I’m getting too close. Let’s maybe go, uh, _limit the gene pool_ at my house?” says Xander with a grin. Harry gives a sharp nod and grips Xander’s hand more tightly.

Xander pulls Harry through the blurry mass of bodies, past the bodyguard, through the door, and onto the quiet street. As he calls the Uber, Harry stares blankly into New York City’s pitch black sky. The aboveground train thunders in the distance. It raises goosebumps on Harry’s skin, the too-much of pizza-shop-neon and women in broken heels stumbling across the street and the love he feels for everything in the world.

“Are you okay?” says Xander. He pockets his phone and pulls Harry closer. Harry comes to himself in the warmth of his boyfriend’s arms. He toys with the hair on Xander’s thick forearm as he bobs his head up and down.

“Just feeling. . .like. It’s good to be alive, you know?” says Harry. Xander presses a gentle kiss to Harry’s sweaty hairline.

“Yeah. I do.”


End file.
